Anytime I go out to eat, I always assume I am getting half of what my wife gets ( in addition to what I order) or at least a taste of it. Thats how I determine what Im going to order. i will never get what she gets ( cause I know Im going to get it anyway ). I actually even get annoyed if she orders what my first choice was. It kinda throws me off.

Same reaction I had at this breakfast. I just sat there and watched in amazement. i didn't say anything, as i didn't want her to feel self conscious. I was afraid if I made her aware of what i was witnessing, she would stop.
All kidding aside, I don't think I could have finished it myself.

Let me start by making a stereotypical comment. In most situations where there is a male/ female couple, usually the male will "Out - Eat" his female counterpart. Not only by completing his dish, but probably eating half of her dish too.

After almost 25 years of marriage, I witnessed the almost impossible the other day. We were in Philadelphia for the 4th and decided to go out for breakfast at a restaurant recommended by a friend. We walk from our hotel to the restaurant , which is located in a nice, upscale section of the city, surrounded by narrow streets and houses that were probably their since our countries birth. The restaurant is kind of modern, with some tables lining the sidewalk and a very comfortable, open layout on the inside. We were informed that it is a 'cash - only' place, so I checked my wallet to make sure I wasn't going to embarrass myself at the end of the meal ( they also had a conveniently placed ATM machine in the restaurant).

We sit down and are presented with a menu which consists of fancy derivatives of popular breakfast items: Cookie Dough Stuffed French Toast, Creme Brulee French Toast, Red Velvet Pancake ...and the list goes on. Having been with my wife for over 30 years, I had a pretty good idea which she would choose , and I was right, the Apple Pie French Toast. It was at this point when I started to realize something special was going to happen. Her eyes were kinda wide open and glazed, not paying attention to anything I was saying, just the look of anticipation of what she was going to be presented with.

Then, from a distance, I see the waitress approaching the table with what appeared to be a sombrero-sized plate. As she lowered the plate to the table , in front of my wife, I see a stacked French toast ( about 6 inches high), topped with cinnamon apples and the crumbles you would find on a cobbler and a scoop of what i thought was vanilla ice cream, but was actually a sugar sweetened butter scoop. I was amazed by the amount of food on the plate, and in my mind, I figured there was no way in hell she was going to finish this. I anticipated having to lug her left overs all around the city the rest of the day in a doggie bag. i was full just by looking at the amount on the plate.

Then the miracle began. I focussed on my own dish , rosemary roasted potatoes, home baked rye toast, and a scramble of tomatoes, onions, peppers and tofu ( yeah, I know what you guys are thinking, how can you compare a tofu scramble to an apple pi french toast). To my defense , Im not much of a breakfast eater, and i prefer savory over sweet. Anyway, as Im focussing on my breakfast, I swear I see sparks coming off of her knife and fork as she devours her breakfast. She gets about halfway done, showing no signs of slowing down, chipping away at the stack. I would say I ate about 3/4 of my dish, but I was actually getting full just watching her.

Finally, as she became a member of the 'empty plate club', except the lonely sprig of mint pushed to the side, a waiter comes to the table and asks ' Are you finished? May I take the plate? " and my classic response to him was " no, she's hasn't licked the plate yet" which earned me a deserved, but well worth kick under the table. We all laughed. Not sure if there is a moral to this story, I was just amazed that after 30+ years, I had finally witnessed the impossible. To her defense, she didn't eat anything else until dinner time.

Just thought I'd share.

Crikey! And I thought the portions on Triple D were exaggerated for the cameras. I have the appetite of a horse (well, several horses, really) but I think even I'd baulk at a breakfast that big!

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__________________Don’t look for the light at the end of the tunnel. Stomp along and switch the bl**dy thing on yourself.